Friday I'm in Love
by PartyInTheNorth
Summary: A Sansaery Faking It AU, or five times Sansa and Margaery faked it, and one time they didn't


**I.**

'It's genius, Sansa, don't deny it!' exclaims Margaery, a strand of brown hair falling from her thick plait (entwined with little fabric flowers, of course) as she bounces up and down with excitement. Sansa rolls her eyes, pulling her jumper sleeves down over her wrists nervously.

'It's stupid, Marge,' she mutters, 'Renly was super drunk when he said we were gay, no-one'll believe it- and- and how the hell would we convince people we're a couple?'

'Like this,' Marge murmurs, slipping her arm around Sansa's waist and whispering in her ear, 'See, the band geeks over there are staring at us like we're a fucking circus attraction. We'll be local celebrities in like 10 seconds.'

'Why do you care what those people think of you, Marge?' Sansa questioned, wrapping her arm around Marge's back in a half-hug.

'I don't,' she said, 'I just want someone to appreciate how well I dress _every fucking day_.'

'I appreciate you, Marge.'

'Yeah, Sansa, you're the best,' Marge smiled, kissing Sansa's cheek melodramatically.

**II.**

And now suddenly they're in front of 300 people, with Margaery charming them all with her speech about equality and peace and love and Sansa almost hating her for being able to make such a beautiful speech just to get them votes for homecoming queens.

And now Joffrey's cutting in, his vile little voice cutting into Sansa's ears over the speakers, saying, 'They're not really a couple! They're faking it! They're mocking the gay rights movement!'

There's a terrible silence. Everyone will hate them. They'll be even more ostracised than before. They'll _have_ to become a couple just so either of them can feel the touch of another human being _ever_.

Marge is about to explain, devastation in her eyes, the cogs whirring behind them as she thinks of a way to get them out of this.

And for once, Sansa is quicker.

'If we were faking it…' she calls out, projecting her voice like it isn't terrifying and new to her, '…Would I do this?'

And then she turns to Margaery, leans in with her eyes shut so she can't register the shock in her best friend's eyes, and kisses her.

_(And something clicks. There's a stirring in the pit of her stomach, and she pulls away before she wants to.)_

'Woah,' breathes Sansa.

'I know.'

**III.**

Three days later and the fame is really getting to Margaery's head. All she talks about is all the free vegan cupcakes she's been given and all the parties she's – no, no, they definitely meant _both of them_ are – invited to. Oh, and of course, _Daario_.

They made out in the art room for like, half an hour, and she thinks he's _really _interested in her and – oh man, if Sansa has to listen to Marge's description of his hair _one more time_, she's going to stab herself in the heart. It'll be quicker.

But hey, at least Sansa gets to spend time with Marge, and admire the way the sun filters through her curtain of hazelnut curls, glimmering on her eyelashes and making her pull a toothy squinty smile which is just adorable.

_(Oh fuck, she's in love with her best friend.)_

And then the smile turns into a laugh, and Margaery rolls onto all fours, crawling across the grass to kiss Sansa on the lips, caressing her with those plump lips, the smile imprinting its shape onto Sansa's stunned little 'o'.

Marge pulls back, and Sansa tries not to follow her. When she comes out of her daze, they have a crowd stood round. A couple of people are even clapping.

_(Oh. Right. That's why she did it.)_

Sansa licks her lips subtly. They taste of raspberry lipgloss.

**IV.**

Sansa opens her eyes drowsily, and rolls over, tangling the sheets up around her. Someone tugs back.

'Mmmmmm no, it's too early…' groans Margaery, her hair mussed up by sleep.

She moves her head across the pillow and kisses Sansa, her mouth warm and sleepy, lazily running her lips around Sansa's, her tongue dipping into Sansa's mouth and sending a shiver down Sansa's spine, even though she's sure she's never felt warmer or more comfortable.

And then she snaps awake. _(Oh god.)_

Sansa takes a cold shower, and the minute she gets to school she finds Renly, sunbathing on the grass as usual.

'Renly, I need to talk to you,' she hisses, dragging him away from his friends.

As soon as they're alone, she spills. Everything. She tells him Margaery's faking it, but she's not so sure any more.

And Renly is kind, but he can't solve her problems. He would be brave enough to tell his best friend if he was in love with him.

**V.**

_'She'll realise it's you she wants,' _Renly's words echo in Sansa's head, but they don't make so much sense any more, sitting between Margaery and Daario on a tacky motel bed, the plasticky sheet scratching her bare legs where her trench coat has ridden up underneath her.

Margaery gets up to fetch ice, and Daario – who always seemed so sexually confident – paces the room awkwardly, so that it's hard to believe this is the same guy who allegedly made Daenerys Targaryen orgasm four times in the same school day.

'Oh, come on,' Sansa mutters to herself, and she stands up, unwrapping her trench coat with not so much seductiveness as annoyance. 'Is this a threesome or a staring contest? Let's do this.'

She stands there in her black underwear, shaking her hair out and trying to look more confident than she feels.

Somehow, the confidence comes when she stands up, moving over to Margaery with supportive eyes and unwrapping her friend's trench coat. And now, unlike when they 'rehearsed', Sansa places a hand on Margaery's neck and another on her waist (so soft and warm) and shifts her lips to Marge's, kissing her with all the desire that's been building up in the past week, kissing her as if the very movement of her lips against Marge's will tell her _I love you_ when her words fail.

She pulls back.

'_Woah,' _Marge breathes.

Sansa can't help but smile. 'I know.'

They share a look, Margaery's brown eyes questioning, as if the message almost got across.

And then Daario dives in, slamming his lips onto Sansa's with the confidence of a guy who knows every girl wants him.

'I can't,' stammers Marge, pulling her trench coat back on and dashing out of the door.

**+ I. **

It's been four days since the threesome, and Margaery hasn't answered a single text or call from Sansa. She's even been avoiding her at school, and rumours abound that they've broken up. Even Renly is bored of hearing Sansa worrying about it now.

So she sits at home, studying (which is still better than going to the Baratheons' with her family).

And at half seven, the doorbell rings. Sansa groans, checking her phone for Marge anxiously once more before she goes downstairs to open it, expecting someone trying to convince them to buy a new drive or solar panels.

But there's Margaery, with a box of chocolates in one hand and the _Twilight _boxset in the other.

'I'm so sorry, Sansa,' she says, 'Can I come in?'

Sansa smiles in spite of herself, and they go up to Sansa's room, sitting with the boxset between them on the bed.

'The thing is, Sansa,' says Marge, 'I ran away because…'

'You don't have to explain,' says Sansa when Marge pauses, 'It was weird.'

'No, no. I have to.' Marge murmurs, more to herself than Sansa. 'Look, the thing is… I think I might not be faking it anymore?'

Sansa laughs.

'Oh, thank God.'

And Sansa leans in and kisses her, unable to hold back the smile that lets warm air from Margaery's sweet, sweet mouth into hers.

**A/N: Thank you so much for reading! If you're a bit confused you may need to watch Faking It. It's the best. The wonderful Clara made a gifset to go along with this fic, and you can see it here on my tumblr. Enjoy!**


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